Hijacking the Heart
by HippoPoo
Summary: They say that "love conquers all", but could tracker jacker venom be the exception? - Peeta's POV of his time in the Capitol - Mockingjay
1. Chapter 1

_Scream. Splash. Scream. Splash. Scream. Splash. Silence._

These are the sounds I wake too. I'm assuming its Finnick, and probably Johanna, going for a morning swim.. If only they were making less noise and hadn't disturbed me, my dream was surreal. Katniss and I, walking down a beach at sunset, hand in hand. I shouldn't have found it that amazing, we've walked along the beach we're sleeping on now with our fingers linked. But I knew that in my dream, we were not in an arena. The sun in my dream was real, it was not some kind of projection created by the Capitol attempting to be the actual thing. That was the only alteration between the beach in my dream and the beach we are laying on, but it made all the difference.

It was freedom.

_Scream. Splash. Scream. Splash. "NOOOOOO PLEASE."_

They're getting louder, its defiantly Johanna out in the water with Finnick. I couldn't recognise her scream, but I can tell by the voice. She's begging for him to stop doing something now, he must be chasing her, or pushing her head under the water. Something like that. Even half asleep I pick up on the fact that Johanna sounds like she's crying. I didn't think that anything could make that woman cry, no, it was impossible… I come to the conclusion she's just toying with Finnick. I had seen her in the games she had won, acting as weak and scared had led to her victory, the gift of fake crying must still be with her. I didn't really see why she was pretending to cry now though, her strength was no longer a secret; Finnick would know that the tears were not genuine.

I wish she'd stop, hearing someone crying, fake tears or otherwise, is one of the worst sounds on this planet, especially if coming from Katniss. But despite the dreaded noise, I would do anything to freeze this moment, so that I'd never have to cut off Johanna's very believable weeping. Never have to end the both of them, her and Finnick. But it's needed if I am going to get Katniss out of here, for that to work we all need to die. Including me. The thought of dying does not bother me, not when the alternative is a life without Katniss, they will not allow us both out of the games this time. I know Katniss is trying to make sure that I'm going to be the one who leaves, but she should know by now, that if she was ever to die; I would end up following soon after.

I steer away from the thoughts of killing the innocent; it's not something I wish to rise too. But I have woken to worse, much worse; the sound of tracker jackers buzzing all around me when Katniss dropped them on us, the realisation that Katniss had gone to get the medicine to heal my blood poisoning and that she may not come back, Katniss screaming in her sleep, Katniss getting us all to move and escape the fog that was advancing on us.. I notice that each thought revolves around Katniss, it always does. I move onto the best things I have woken too, but there is no list this time, only her. Waking up to her never fails to take my breath away, I used to think that emerging from my sleep whilst watching the sun come up was beautiful, but sunrise is nothing compared to Katniss Everdeen. Every morning I expect to wake up and discover that seeing her face in front of me, lips only inches away from my own, is just a dream, I could never have spent the night sleeping next to Katniss, that only happens in my fantasies. Yet every morning since we arrived in here, I've opened my eyes to her.

I always wake before her, I have start each day seeing her in peace, the only time there isn't a hint of worry or pain etched on her face is when she is sleeping. And the image is priceless. When she's resting, not one person would know that this girl has been put through a lifetime of suffering, unless she's having a nightmare. But I protect her from them. I will always be the barrier against the horrid images that try to invade her mind, images I know all too well. And as I protect her from the scenes she returns to in her slumber, she protects me from the scenes I never wish to face - simply by being there, for my nightmares are the exact opposite.

I turn my head and open my eyes, at first it's as if i am looking through a frosted window, but as my vision comes into focus the sight I had expected to see, the sight I yearn to see, is not there. Instead of the familiar features of Katniss there is a white tile wall. Previously lost in the thought I hadn't noticed my surroundings. It is a very rare occurrence, Katniss not being my main priority, but right now, my full attention is on the question; where am I? How could I have gone from lying on a beach in an arena to a bed?

I attempt to get up only to find that I can't even move into a sitting position, I'm restrained. Legs, ankles, wrists, chest, the only part of me not strapped down is my head. I face the other way and I feel the panic rise into my throat, beside my bed, laid out on a metal trolley, is at least 10 syringes filled with some sort of greenish liquid… I don't recognize it but I pray that I won't have to find out what it does, its highly unlikely that it will be anything good. Similar to being in the arena, I have no idea what is waiting for me, the thought of the unknown setting me even more on edge. And as my terror heightens, I feel like I'm going to fall off of that edge and lose it completely. Then, unexpectedly, my memories return out of nowhere. My last moment in the arena had not been settling down for the night on the beach, I remember now. I had been running desperately through the jungle, screaming at the top of my lungs in a frantic search for Katniss, Brutus killed Chaff, I killed Brutus. Katniss was then calling for me as I had been calling for her, there was then a huge explosion and I fell to the ground in fear. That's the last thing I can recall, the rest is blackness…

Katniss.

My panic now surges into complete hysteria, is Katniss in the same situation as me? Is she in a worse situation? It then dawns on me that the screaming and splashing was obviously not Johanna just messing around with Finnick. Somehow, Johanna really has been reduced to tears. I assume that she was being tortured by the Capitol; it had become clear to me that that is the only place we could be. All I can do is hope that it is only Johanna and I here, that Katniss has not been captured. Or even worse, killed. The idea has made its way in my head, and now that's found a way in, I cannot get it to leave. It overwhelms me. So much so that I begin shaking and sobbing, I need to know that Katniss is not here, that she is alive. I should have found Katniss in those last moments, she was calling for me, she needed me. I should have separated from the group when she had suggested it. I should have kept her safe; I had promised myself to always keep her safe... I am an oath breaker, and my failure consumes me. I'm screaming, thrashing. I continue to do so even though it's pointless, there is no escaping from the bed which acts as my prison.

"_KATNISS- KATNISS PLEASE, PLEASE BE SAFE, KATNISS PLEASE!"_

The plea explodes from deep within me before I can stop it, I can barely recognize my own voice or make out the words that I cried, my sobs had distorted them too much. I feel so hopeless, certain that Snow has had the girl I love more than anything in this universe sent for torture or execution. I've had the thought that Katniss could be dead before, but it's never been this strong or empowering. I've never been this certain that it's true, that she has been taken from me; there has always been a spark of hope, a corner of my mind telling me that she could be fine. But now, all I feel is complete and utter fear.

_"Please, please, please, Katniss, Katniss, please, please..."_

* * *

I'm unsure how long I continue to howl and writhe, but when someone eventually opens the door and comes in the room I can feel the warmth of blood on my wrists and ankles from where the restraints have rubbed away at my skin. I'm still screaming as I feel the prick of a needle in left arm, the thought of having lost Katniss forever agonizing and tormenting me. There is then a feeling that I've only had once before, but it is one I will never forget. The feeling of tracker jacker venom spreading throughout my body, it feels like fire running through my veins, all stemming from the place of the injection. I'm almost sick at the thought of having to face the effects of the venom again; it is an experience I had never wished to relive. It's clearly my time for torture... there is no doubt the Capitol have cameras and microphones set up in here, they would have heard my cries, it should be obvious that my own mind is perfectly capable of torturing me without the added help of the venom.

Then the voice I have been longing to hear is ringing in my ears, Katniss. I let out a sigh of relief, she is alive. My shaking ceases and I lift up my head; I need to see her to be truly reassured. But of course, it was too good to be true, she's not here, I'm just looking at a TV screen. A clip of her from the first games we were in is being played on a loop. The announcement that there can be two victors and then Katniss saying my name. I'm unsure why I'm being showed this, Johanna got tortured and I get rewarded? Hearing Katniss say my name over and over is something I could listen to for eternity. It sounds…

Ominous. Sinister. Menacing. Threatening. Perilous.

A second ago it had been a vast contrast, my name had rolled off her tongue in such a way that anyone who had heard it would've known that she had wanted to save me, that she cared about me. But it's abruptly changed. She's now saying my name in a way that makes me think she had wanted to find me and kill me. But that's not true; she did save me and care for me back in the first arena. That was what she had aimed to do since that announcement... Wasn't it? Had she originally thought of saving or killing me? Had she been happy to share the title of 'District 12 victor' or had she wanted it for herself? But I had offered that to her, I had told her to kill me when they withdrew the two victor rule, and then she had offered the berries in response. We were to die together... or had she planned on spitting them out even before they told us to. Had she just not wanted to kill me herself, was letting me do it for her an attempt to ease her guilt? Or had it been her way of apologizing for killing me, by letting me think I was dying with her, by letting me think that I was dying with her loving me... Was that her kind of idea of an act of kindness? Was the suicide plan all an act?... Just like the love she showed towards me in that arena was. But that was then; she could be in love with me now, couldn't she? My mind's torn... And then without warning, my screaming about Katniss starts up again. But this time, it is not in fear of losing her, but in fear of finding her. And I have no idea why.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm with Katniss at the beach once again, it's the same one we were at last night, the one outside of the arena with the real sun; we are not walking hand in hand this time; instead we are in the sea. I don't recall getting into the water, but I can see our clothes sprawled across the sand from where we must have removed them to bathe. This irks me, Katniss wouldn't do this, she would not be comfortable stripped of the materials that covered her, she would leave them on, even to swim. If it was just me without clothes on she would still not be at ease, I know this from experience. She wouldn't even look at my body in the first arena, despite having just looked at my gruesome wounds, which is in my opinion a far worse sight than nakedness. So I know for a fact she would be ten times more embarrassed if she was the one in the nude, yet she does not appear to be. However the water is up to our necks so I assume that Katniss made me turn away until she got to this point in the ocean, and then did the same for me. I decide this is what happened and don't worry about it further, the more pressing issue is why I can't remember it happening. But I have no answer to that and decide to relish in this bliss point in time.

Katniss is bobbing in the waves close to me, not so close that we are touching, but near enough that I can grab her hand. And like our last visit here our fingers are now linked. Another similarity to our previous stroll along the sand is that it is sunset, which I personally think is the best part of the day, the part when the sky is painted with the shade of orange I so love. Katniss squeezes my hand at the sight, she knows about my colour preference and I know from that slight extra pressure that she remembers it.

I recall the first time I remember witnessing this picturesque landscape, and in my eyes, natures biggest beauty. I very young so its unusual that this memory has always stuck with me so clearly; I with my father, and as the sun went below the horizon a shooting star soared across the sky. My father closed his eyes as if he was praying; after the star had faded from sight he asked me if I had made a wish as well. I hadn't. I didn't know you were meant to, and I didn't know that you weren't meant to ask people what they had wished for either, so I went ahead and asked him. He had explained that you aren't meant to tell someone or it won't come true, then in a voice that sounded pretty heavyhearted he added _'I'__ll tell you my wish anyways Peeta, it won't come true either way". _He'd wished that one day he could watch the sunset, his favourite time of day – his love for it now passed down to me – with the woman he loved, he said he'd especially like it if she loved him back. When all the stars came up I asked him why he liked the sunset so much – it was because no matter what he had been through that day, the sun down reminded him that there was always the promise of tomorrow. Which isn't entirely true, I know better than to think that since the Games.

At the time of this father-son bonding, I had also make a point of telling him he should just make his wish come true by watching the sunset with my mother, he informed me that they had never watched the sunset together and that he didn't intend to. Later I had discovered he was saving the sight for Mrs. Everdeen. The day I heard Katniss sing I told my dad that I wanted to be included in his little ritual; I had announced to him that when the girls we loved also loved us, all four of us would watch the sunset together. He had asked me who, immediately knowing that someone had taken hold of my heart. _"Katniss Everdeen" _was my reply, and he told me that he no longer wished to watch the sunset with his love; the time would be for me and Katniss. I had asked him if he was sure, he was positive – _"I don't have the slightest chance of watching it with the person I love anyways, you might though." _That day sunset orange became my favourite colour, the colour of hope.

But I did not need this hope anymore, for I was watching sunset with the woman I loved, and at this moment, I honestly feel as if my love is mutual. So despite having watched the sunset with her on previous occasions, this time felt different, it felt special. My father would never experience this; he gave up his wish of love to allow his son to have a shot of his own, the daughter of his father's. I would be forever grateful for my dad for doing that, even if he probably wouldn't have ended up with Katniss' mother, the gesture still means a great deal to me. I'm experiencing this sunset for the both of us, my dad and I, and as I turn to look at Katniss, far more beautiful than the scene in front of us; I feel the need to share my thoughts.

_"My dad would like to see this."_

As my heart warms, our interlocked hands seem to as well. Is this what happens when two people are joined to make one? It feels as if it is a sign, telling me that my thought of Katniss loving me back rings true, it's as if the boiling star above that watches down on us as it sets, is giving us, the star-crossed lovers of District Twelve, some of its heat to melt us together. Although the heat does not seem to stop, it is constantly intensifying. Only then does Katniss finally turn to face me.

But it's not her; it's some kind of fire mutt, clearly created by the Capitol, disguised as her, replacing her. Its eyes, Katniss' eyes, they are full of flames, and suddenly her hair is woven from fire. The heat in our joint hands is no longer ours, just hers. And the heat is no longer a sign of love, just hate.

The monster moves closer to me and embraces me, pressing its body against my own, Katniss' arms should be where I belong, yet here was the last place I want to be. Everywhere her skin touches it feels as if my own is burning, it's as if Katniss' skin is a light, although she's not being affected by it. That is only me, I feel like I'm in the core of a volcano, and then suddenly the sea around us turns into lava. She's glowing like a candle; she is the coal in the fires back home, red hot to the touch. I can't escape, the mutt in the form of Katniss' body is too strong, and she hold's me in place, letting me burn, wanting me too. She is slowly incinerating me.

I know that I'm screaming, yet I can't hear myself. All I can do is feel the fever and the pain and look into the eyes of this mutt version of Katniss; it feels as if I'm looking into the depths of hell when looking into Katniss' eyes should be like looking into heaven. I can sense that wherever this Katniss is in contact with me, my skin's being warn away, scorched until it blackens and then peels off, exposing the muscle and bone underneath. And then I can't cope with the agony anymore. As I explode into ashes, the sun also obliterates, setting the whole world a blaze until the only thing left is my killer; Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire.

My own yelling wakes me from the nightmare and I can't help but feel as if I will be hearing myself shriek and weep more frequently that I would want in these days or months ahead. I am covered in a layer of sweat and I still feel as if I am still being boiled. I can't lay here, I can't fall back to sleep, but I am still in my restraints. I give a feeble attempt to free my left wrist knowing it will do no use; all the thrashing yesterday had not loosed their grip. However my hand slips easily through, my sweat appearing to act as a lubricant. I eagerly free my right arm as well; I'm then able to unbuckle myself out of the rest of the restrictions.

I sit up and have a long awaited stretch, moving all my muscles to make sure they are working and not burnt to a crisp. I then stand to bend my legs; it has never felt so good. I begin to walk back and forth, not even bothering to try the door; it will be locked. As I pace I spot the syringes filled with the green liquid I now know to be tracker jacker venom. I think back to my dream, I had wondered when the hallucinations would come. I had had none in my waking hours the night before when injected and shown the clip of Katniss, it had seemed unusual as in the arena they had started almost immediately. I'm guessing that the dosage was smaller than it was then, for this time it appears the venom is only affecting my dreams. I can't decide if I should be relived, certainly, the Capitol is not inflicting as much harm on me as I would have thought. But the nightmare is still more than I would like, especially as it had had the potential to be such a perfect dream. Dream... its not the right word for them when they seem so real. I can't think of any other dreams in the past that I've had in which my thought process is the same as it is when I am awake; reminiscing on childhood, thinking for myself and being in control of my actions. If only I could control what the 'dreams' consisted of. Still sweating and shaken from it I grab the syringes and hurl them against the white tile walls, watching them explode as the sun and I had in my slumber.

I return to my dream again, forcing myself to relive it all so I could see the falseness of it, see that it was all fake and venom inflicted, I have to drive out this fear. Its true that Katniss is causing me fright, but I'm only scared for her, not of her; the thought of where she is and what she is doing always running around my mind. But I need to prove to myself that Katniss the fire mutt is not causing me any fright outside of the dream, so I go to say the words that had begun the burning. But the words get stuck in my throat when I attempt to voice them, it's stupid, but I just can't seem to say them out loud, apparently convinced they caused the flames, and that they will cause more. I realise then that I no longer wish to watch the sunset with Katniss again, not ever.

It feels as if I have somehow let my father down, as if he has been relying on me to eventually watch the sunset with someone who loves me back, and not just in a dream. I don't know whether to be upset, angry or even confused. I've never been afraid of Katniss, I never can be afraid of her. The emotions conflict within me, but the fight for dominance is put to an abrupt pause when the door to my cell opens. There's a group of peacekeepers surrounding a woman. _"Follow us or force will be used, Ceaser Flickerman awaits for an interview."_ The woman says in her Capitol tongue. She looks relatively normal, dressed in a long lab coat and black clothes. If I hadn't just heard her accent, the only sign that she is from the Capitol is her hair, which is dyed a bright pink, it quite surprising that it's the only bring colour on her body, people from the Capitol tend to have a considerably larger amount of alterations than just dyed hair. The hair reminds me of Effie Trinket. But I have a hunch this escort won't be nearly as kind as my previous one judging by her voice, it was far less friendly. As her and the armed forces turn around and head to the left I get up and trail behind, knowing I would just be asking to be hurt if I did not. As I leave the room it's almost as if Effie is there with me for all of I can think of is one of her most beloved sayings_, "it's going to be a big, big, big day!"_

* * *

_a/n - well... this may have been uploaded just a **tad **after the first chapter. oops. basically, i didn't get round to it until a while ago. and then i re-read what i had written. and the whole bit about Peeta's dad was absolute shite and insaneeeely cheesy cos it was written in the early hours of the morn. so i had to change it. sorry if its still pretty cheese. idk its just i was set on including something about him and or w/e once it went in. this chapter was originally meant to be about the interview. but i started off with the dream thing, cos for some reason i appear to have developed an obsession with them when it comes to this fic. it was only meant to be the start but as i wrote it sorta developed into a whole chapter as the 'girl on fire mutt' idea came into my head. the next chappy will be the interview, which may take a while cos of college and having to acc get stuff from book. won't be as long as it took me to upload this tho, that was ridic. rambling as if ppl curr l0l. pleaseeeee r&r, would be v. grateful. :)_


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